The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,146

cocked to one side, and reached out to catch the chain around my neck. He drew out the amulet, held it up, then let it fall back against my chest.

“Ah,” he said. “That explains much.”

A scuffling from below drew my eyes downward. Kiran was throwing his weight against the two remaining manacles, his face despairing.

“None of that,” Simon said softly, and knelt. His body blocked my view, but when he stood again, Kiran was once more outstretched, his manacles embedded in the rock as if I’d never freed them.

Simon turned his attention back on me. My silent litany of curses faltered at the cold anticipation in his eyes. He flicked his fingers in a twisting gesture. “Did Ruslan send you?”

Gods, I could feel him in my head, an icy pressure forcing words to my tongue. “N-no.” I thought fast, and added, “But the Alathians know. About you. And the border. They’re coming.”

His eyes narrowed, holding mine. Then he laughed. “But not, I think, before I finish here. And afterward, it won’t matter. I know them well. They will not cross the mountains.” He gripped my arm and drew me away from Kiran, to the edge of the glowing lines.

“I’d thought to use only stored ikilhia to control this spell, but fresh blood is always better.” He took up an ornate silver knife.

Oh, fuck. I set my jaw and shut my eyes. I’d gambled with my life and lost, but no matter what agonies I endured at Simon’s hands, the end result was no different than a fall from a climb, or the rockfall that had killed Sethan. Cara was safe in Alathia, and gods willing, she’d give Melly the life I couldn’t. I’d sentenced Steffol and Joreal to this fate; only fair I should join them.

“Simon, wait!” Kiran’s voice was ragged but urgent. I squinted one eye open. To my surprise, Simon lowered the knife.

“Would you prefer a better view?” he asked Kiran, mockingly.

“He’s strongly Tainted. Or was,” Kiran said.

Simon looked back at me, with a thoughtful malice that made my skin crawl. “Was he, now?”

I couldn’t see what that had to do with anything. But Simon asked, “Is this true?” His fingers flicked again, the invisible force returning to squeeze an answer from me.

“Yes.”

Simon raised his brows. “Very well, I’ll not waste a potentially useful subject.” He glanced at Kiran. “He’ll not be grateful to you. The agony of a mind destroyed piece by piece over long days far outstrips any I’d planned here.”

My stomach rolled over. People in Ninavel always said in dire tones that dealing with mages got you killed or worse. Looked like I’d get the chance to find out about the “or worse” part.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

(Kiran)

Kiran twisted to watch as Simon led an unresisting Dev out of the channels. Stacked crates stood against the cave wall, the remains of Simon’s spellcasting supplies. Simon pushed Dev down onto a crate.

“Remain here.” Simon sketched a quick voshanoi sigil in the air, meant to reinforce the bone-binding he’d surely cast the first moment he touched Dev.

Dev’s face was blank, but anger glittered deep in his green eyes. Kiran sent a silent apology Dev’s way. Anger was better than the terrible look of resignation Dev had worn when Simon raised the knife.

“Your friend was surprisingly clever,” Simon said to Kiran, as he took a bulging cloth sack from one of the crates. “But even if he had freed you, believe me, I never would have permitted you to escape. I’ve waited too long for this.”

“Ruslan said the same thing,” Kiran said in a low and bitter voice, remembering his first, fraught conversation with Ruslan after the akhelashva ritual.

Simon unwrapped a set of dark, faceted crystals. Deep within each crystal, a crimson glow pulsed. Kiran pulled against the manacles. “Those are—”

“Zhivnoi crystals, yes.” Simon paced around the the pattern, setting crystals at the anchor points. As each crystal touched the pattern, the bright greenish-silver of the lines coiling inward from that point turned to sullen red.

“But...so many...” Seven crystals, and from the size, capable of holding the ikilhia of ten or more lives each...he felt sick.

“It took me years to store this much.” Simon sounded disgusted. “Kost is nowhere near as enlightened as Ninavel. No slaves, no selling off of condemned criminals...it can be so difficult in Alathia to find people none will miss. Fortunately the authorities expect a certain attrition rate for prospectors and hunters. The mountains are so dangerous, after all.”

Kiran shut his eyes, blocking out Simon’s poisonous smile.